Brothers 'till the End
by Gburghwitchface
Summary: Regulus has died, leaving Sirius in a state of misery. Oneshot.


**Regulus Black**

_1961-1980_

_"Mum would have wanted me to engrave about your pure blood._

_She would have wanted me to talk about your family honor._

_Too bad I was always some sort of badass or another._

_Rest well, brother. I will love you forever."_

BELOVED SON AND BROTHER.

_Toujours pur_

---

I sat in front of my younger brother's grave. Staring blankly at the baskets of dead flowers that were resting next to the headstone, I felt the tears threaten to overwhelm me. Luckily, none fell, yet.

Regulus was gone. Regulus was dead. Regulus was dead and gone. Regulus was dead and gone because he defied Voldemort.

_Voldemort._ Voldemort killed my little brother. _Voldemort._ Voldemort tore apart our friendship and our love. _Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort._

I could feel the anger traveling up my body, through my veins. _This_ was rage. The feeling at the Prewett twin's funeral, two of my closest friends after the Marauders, was nothing compared to what I felt now. My brother was dead.

Memories of Regulus and I flashed behind my eyes. Me five, him four, playing with Mom's wand. She never found out, of course. We would have been severely punished if that was the case, and I could not look back on this memory in such a fond manner. I had been waving the wand, yelling gibberish words when a bubble had popped out of the tip in a burst of bright purple. Both Regulus and I had been deadly silent, watching the violet bubble. It had floated hesitantly over to Regulus, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. It landed right on the tip of his small button nose and remained there without popping. Regulus had crossed his eyes too see the bubble and stuck out his tongue to try to poke it. He had succeeded in popping the bubble and getting his eyes full of soap.

The abuse. My father abused Regulus. My father abused me. We were abused together, and we always healed together.

Father, in his glory, shining black hair that he passed onto my brother and I, advanced on Regulus. His eyes held the Black madness that we were famous for. His wand was already out, pointing at small Regulus huddling in fear at the base of the staircase. He was just pushed down the last couple of wooden stairs by my father while walking down to eat lunch. Regulus had missed a lesson in his pre-Hogwarts education. The teacher was quite upset, and confined lies to father of how Regulus was always misbehaving. His father, always believing the word of elders over children, became very angry. A magical, abusive father angry is nothing a child should want to witness. I watched on silently as my father caught up with Regulus, and after the first five minutes I could hold back no longer. I silently rushed towards my two relatives, one that I hated with a fiery passion and one that I loved with all my heart, and stood between them. Regulus had plenty of time to recover while my father was busy with me...

Next, I remembered Regulus standing in the front of the Great Hall being sorted. He looked so small and scared when he walked towards the ancient hat. I had already known somewhere deep that he was going to become a Slytherin, for he was the one that always had come up with the more clever plans when we thought of running away, but I still hoped we could have wore matching red and gold scarves together. When the hat did in fact call out 'Slytherin!' the disappointment was still harsh, yet expected. Then Regulus had looked over to me with the same wide, terror filled eyes, silently asking if I was all right with him being Slytherin and if we still were brothers. I remember smiling at him and nodding, then becoming the only one at my lion table to clap for a new Slytherin. James understood, as young as we both were in second year. Oh, the looks I had received…

I remembered us growing apart. Pain rioted up to my heart. By my fourth year, we both had stopped smiling at each other in the corridors between classes. We no longer waved in the breakfast feast, and we ignored each other when leaving dinner. I no longer went to help him with his schoolwork because I knew he was rubbish in Transfiguration and that was one of my best.

By fifth year, I did not talk to him at all. That summer had been rough. Father turned sexually abusive towards me, and no longer hit Regulus. The cold indifference in his eyes killed me on the inside. I lay on my bedroom floor naked and Regulus walks in. He informs me that dinner is to be served in ten minutes, and that I had better be present. He looked down on me, standing tall and harsh. I saw my father in him through the tear haze, and I whimpered. My silent sobbing shook my frail body making the whip lashes on my back burn even more. He sneered and turned to leave. I could have swore that his wand was in his hand, and glowed a blue healing spell in that moment when his back was turned, though. My whip induced cuts were then non-existent.

The next summer, he no longer snuck in healing spells to me. I was disowned and ran to James' house.

When the Marauder's Map was first completed in my sixth year, I remembered me looking for his dot daily. I wanted to still be a part of my brother's life, whether or not he agreed. It was when I saw him conversing with Snivelus, and other soon-to-be Death Eaters, that I put the map down.

In that year, we started public fights. When I was dueling Snape the day after we arrived from our house, Regulus came from behind me and casts a mild pain charm at the exact spot of my broken rib. He was well aware that this rib was broken, because he had, in fact, witnessed the beating that left it in this condition. I was betrayed, yet I still loved him too much to hate him.

When the Marauders and I were out of Hogwarts, we joined the Order of the Phoenix immediately. I was one of the most dedicated fighters, refusing to take part in another job and solely devoting myself to the Order. I had no money since my disownment, but I refused the Auror position offered. I ate, slept, and breathed the destruction of Death Eaters. Voldemort had to be stopped before my brother had a chance to join him... I would not let the Dark Lord corrupt him.

Nevertheless, I failed, and by the end of the year, Regulus graduated and then disappeared from the Wizarding World.

Three years later, I saw him one last time before his death. I was on my way to defend a town against a Death Eater raid, riding my motorbike. The town was only five miles from where I was, and anti-apparation wards were already set around the village. I landed in a dark alleyway off the center of the town where the real fighting was going on. I took out my wand, shrunk my bike quickly, and tucked it in my pocket. Turning around towards the noise of fighting, I started to run with my wand ahead of me lighting the way. But suddenly, I heard the sound of someone falling behind me. I whipped around, wand pointing ahead of me, shield charm on my lips. The light of my charm showed me a pile of body about seven yards down the alley. It slightly moved its head in the direction of the light and I saw my same gray eyes shining there. His once silken hair was tangled and dirty. His skin looked like it had not seen light in ages. A gaunt appearance took the face of the once happy and lively boy I knew and loved. My brother looked like a living corps.

He could not see me, I realized. The light was too blinding in his eyes and I was surrounded my darkness. I hesitated. I knew he was a Death Eater, as many of my fellow Order members reported to me of how they had seen him in multiple raids. Even Snape, the slimy bastard, had rubbed in my face of how all the Blacks are mad: me in general, Regulus for joining Voldemort. But... He is my brother, and I refused to abandon him in the way he abandoned me. Call it my Gryffindor side of compassion.

I hurried towards him, making sure the light stayed in his eyes so he could not see my face. Who knows what he would do? He might attack me or flee from me. I could not let my only brother alone in this alley, apparently injured severely.

When I reached him, he looked even worse closer up. Where his robes showed his skin I could see bones. He looked thin and starved. His movements were slow and he winced when his clothing brushed against his one leg and both arms. Regulus was tangled in a heap of his long black robes. The robes themselves were in the same condition as the wearer. Worn and dirty, they looked like they used to be very expensive and neat once upon a time. Exactly like Regulus...

I shut off the light charm and transfigured a lit candle. Regulus had shut his eyes when I had reached him, I am not sure if he had passed out or not. It did not matter though, as I held the candle over his body to examine his injuries. His arms and leg were burned severely and his back was covered in bruises and scars. He looked almost exactly how I imagined I would have looked after my father beat me. However, this time, our roles were reversed and I knew I would take a different route than he did. I cast healing spells on all open wounds. I straightened his broken arm and cast numbing charms on his burned skin. Then I chanted a long healing charm that Lily had created just last month to heal burns. It would keep them stable until Regulus could put salve on them or drink a potion. Sometime during this, Regulus opened his eyes and looked at me for the first time in four years.

When I was finished, I continued to kneel next to him and watch his face. His eyes had lost that cold indifference that I remembered from the year's prior, but instead had a haunted look I saw in the Azkaban prisoner's eyes. Since the abuse from our father did not give him this look, only matured him, I shuddered to think of what would have happened to him to turn him into such a lifeless creature.

Screams continued around us, though they were becoming much more faint. I knew that I had just missed an entire battle and probably had cost people their lives, but I could not bring myself to care with Regulus in front of me. I wondered about him like in ways that I had not permitted myself to do in the past years without him. Was he with someone? Does he live in one of the Black estates? What does he do when he is not performing deeds for Voldemort? Is he happy?

That last question was answered with no words. The look in his eyes told me everything. He was miserable. I could even see some of the insanity that ran through my own blood and the blood of my parents and my parent's parents. We are both Blacks and we both carry the insanity gene. In Regulus, it was more profound, though sometimes when I see myself in a mirror while thinking of Voldemort I can see madness in my eyes. I am mad. My brother before me is mad.

Regulus did not talk. When the numbing spells wore off and the screams of battle were at the lowest point yet, he reached into his robe pocket. Tears were flowing down my face now. He had matching tears running down his own thin face, too. In that moment, we were not on opposite sides of a war. In fact, there was no war in that moment. There was no world except for the one that we shared in those minutes.

We were brothers in those seconds.

He left, then. He took my hand in his bony one, and pushed it off his shoulder it was resting on. Then he held up a small bronze key and smiled a small, very miserable smile to me. He croaked out in a voice that I had long forgotten the exact texture to, "Portkey activate."

He left.

I was alone in the dark alley that had nothing left of Regulus but my memory.

Now I have nothing of my brother but my memories, and all the miscellaneous treasures of my insane family.

Now the tears fall.


End file.
